


Purplr

by Camelittle



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Humor, Love Poems, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Purple Prose, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 18:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20550788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camelittle/pseuds/Camelittle
Summary: 'Rolling his eyes, Merlin scrunched the parchment up and chucked it into the library’s fireplace. He shuffled, yawning, towards the stack of shelves where Geoffrey kept his secret books, where he fingered one hefty tome. Thank all the gods that he’d found this hidden corner. He could practically find the book he needed in his sleep.“Purplr,” stated the embossed gold lettering on its purple leather bindings. “For all your erotic poetry needs.”'





	Purplr

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Kinkalot bonus challenge Purple Prose - with huge thanks to the mods and all the contributors for all their *ahem* _hard_ work. *NUDGE NUDGE*

“Merlin!” growled the king.

“Arthur?” 

“That will be _Sire_, to you. Peasant.” When Arthur cuffed him around the head and thrust a crumpled up sheet of parchment into his hand, Merlin groaned inwardly. Not again! “Take this and work it up.”

“But…” Merlin began to protest.

“Now, Merlin.” Arthur shoved him stumbling out of the door and slammed it behind him. 

Muttering under his breath, Merlin turned his weary feet towards the library, eyes flicking over the parchment as he went. Sure enough, it was another love poem. This came as no surprise. Since Arthur had become king, Albion’s princesses had really stepped up their attempts to snag his hand in marriage. Not that Merlin blamed them. The prat did look jaw-droppingly handsome in a crown. But really, he couldn’t help being miffed. No-one should be kicked out of their own lover’s chambers to compose love poems to simpering upstarts like Princess Francesca, however clever.

As usual, the prince’s lines were terse. 

> _Lovely Francesca _  
_I love you_  
_Your hands are lovely_  
_You have very nice brown eyes _  
_I want to kiss your lips, they’re very nice. I think they’d look nice on my cock._  
_Your mouth is quite pretty_  
_You have skin and breasts &c. (like a chicken - you could work that analogy in, Merlin. It’s quite good)_  
_Your thighs are quite thick from all that horse riding _  
_But that’s ok because I like thick thighs and I think it would be nice if you could ride me like a horse._  
_You have a nice laugh_  
_I’d like to fuck you all round the palace_  
_I’ll lick you down there if you like, as long as you eat lots of sweets._  
_&c._

Rolling his eyes, Merlin scrunched the parchment up and chucked it into the library’s fireplace. Holding his candle aloft, he shuffled, yawning, towards the stack of shelves where Geoffrey kept his secret books. He fingered one hefty tome. Thank all the gods that he’d found this hidden corner. He could practically find the book he needed in his sleep. 

“Purplr,” stated the embossed gold lettering on its purple leather bindings. “For all your erotic poetry needs.” 

Armed with this book, Merlin sat at a nearby table, quill scratching on blank parchment, tongue sticking out of one corner of his mouth. 

Several hours later, rubbing his eyes, he woke up with his forehead pressed to the paper. The candle had long burned down. By the dawn light that trickled in from a high window, he cast a critical eye at his masterwork. 

> _O, Francesca, angel of Albion_  
_How my heart yearns_  
_For your hands upon my eager shaft_  
_Soft and white as gossamer feather wings as they stroke_  
_Working me to a frenzy of ecstasy_  
_With the pearl-lined ruby cavern of your mouth_  
_Your eyes dark_  
_Pools of desire_  
_Beckon me to dive and be consumed_  
_With their limpid, liquid languorous love_  
_Your breasts_  
_Pale melons, turgid and plump _  
_Stark points of nipples poke and tingle upon my tumultuous flesh_  
_How I wish to plunge my steel-velvet golden rod into the purple petals of your lady garden_  
_My rampant stallion galloping through the firm lines of your steely thighs as a wild fire rampages through the forest_  
_Burning everything in its path_  
_With the heat of its rampant hooves_  
_Your voice like the tinkling song of a nightingale echoes from the conflagration of my trapped love-juices_  
_They burn me in their need to escape and to cascade into you_  
_Again and again like a piston_  
_Wild with this consumption, I swoon at your feet_  
_Then let me taste the sweet echoes of my desire in the melting fronds of your fruit-filled love tunnel_  
_My lips and tongue on the moist cavern of your nether lips until your caged bird, too_  
_Sings_

Hmm. There was some good stuff in there. Pity it was being wasted on the upstart princess. 

Blinking with fatigue, Merlin ascended the steps to the King’s chambers at a sedate trudge and pushed through the door without knocking. 

“Wake up, dollophead,” he yawned. 

“Where the hell have you been?” Arthur pouted and lifted the counterpane, patting the mattress. “My bed is cold.” 

Thank all the gods. Arthur was back to his normal self: imperious and a little bit needy. The potion must have worn off. With a relieved eyeroll, Merlin shoved the offending parchment into Arthur’s face and got into bed beside him. 

“Oh!” Arthur’s breath tickled against his ear and there was a rustling sound as of parchment being perused. “Another one of those?” 

“Yeah.” Merlin snuggled into sheets made warm by his king’s sleeping body. “Now hush. I want to sleep.”


End file.
